"THE LESSON OF A LOCOMOTIVE."

After I had read it and handed it back to her, she sez, "Don't
you think I improve on the melody and rhythm of my poetry? I
take this little stick with me now wherever I go, and measure my
lines by it. They are jest of a length, I am very particular;
you know you advised me to be."

"Yes," sez I mechaniklly, "but I didn't mean jest that." Sez I,
"the poetry I wuz a thinkin' on, is measured by the soul, the
enraptured throb of heart and brain; it don't need takin' a stick
to it. Howsumever," sez I, for I see she looked sort a
disapinted, "howsumever, if you have measured 'em, they are
probable about the same length: it is a good sound stick, I
haint no doubt;" and I kinder sithed.

And she sez, "What do you think of the first verse? Haint that
verse as true as fate, or sadness, or anything else you know of?"

"Oh yes," sez I candidly, "yes; if the cars run backwards we
shouldn't go on; that is true as anything can be. But if I wuz
in your place, Ardelia," sez I, "I wouldn't write any more
to-day. It is a kind of muggy damp day. It is a awfully bad day
for poetry to-day. And," sez I, to get her mind offen it, "Have
you seen anything of my companion's specks?"

And that took her mind offen poetry and she went a huntin' for
'em, on the seat and under the seat. She hunted truly high and
low and at last she found 'em on my pardner's foretop, the last